


The Three Times Trip Had To Marry Malcolm, And The One Time He Did Not

by RoaringMice



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-05
Updated: 2020-02-06
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:34:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22574875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoaringMice/pseuds/RoaringMice
Summary: The first time Trip married Malcolm, it was entirely accidental. The last time, it was unexpected. The times between were... well, you'll see.
Relationships: Malcolm Reed/Charles "Trip" Tucker III
Comments: 6
Kudos: 212





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by all of the "had to marry him" fics out there 
> 
> Spoilers for Season 1, Episode 5: Unexpected

Trip knew something was very, very wrong when they tried to enter the temple and their guide actually shoved herself between Jon and the temple door, barring their entry with her body, her face frantic. “You cannot enter the Temple of Joining without being Joined!” she said, her shock at their ignorance, or perhaps what she viewed as their idiocy, apparent from her expression. Her dark complexion went a shade darker. 

Trip saw Malcolm’s posture move from caution to wariness, one hand drifting slowly toward the weapon at his side. Jon stepped back, nearly crashing into Hoshi as he lifted his hands in supplication. “What do we need to do to be ‘Joined’?” Jon asked.

And with that, Trip knew that they were in trouble. He loved Jon like a brother, but sometimes, the Captain acted before he thought. They didn’t even know what Joining meant here, and if sticking your hand in a box full of rocks could get a man pregnant, what the hell could some weird alien Joining ceremony do to you?

Their guide, whose name sounded something like a mix between Fantasmagoria and the noise his mom made when she got really upset at him and lost her ability to speak coherently, stepped forward, seeming to relax slightly. “You would be willing to go through the Joining ceremony?” she asked cautiously. At Jon’s nod, she smiled, revealing a row of sharply pointed teeth. “That would be…” and the rest of what she said was lost in translation. Hoshi looked concerned, then started fiddling with the translation device in her hands. The guide, Fanta… erm… maybe he’d just call her Fanta… started bouncing on her toes and chattering away at Jon and Hoshi, obviously excited.

As she waved them forward and continued her bubbly conversation, Jon and Hoshi following closely behind her, Trip slid in beside Malcolm, deliberately slowing his pace. “This doesn’t seem like a very good idea,” Trip said. He used to be as excited as Jon about first contacts, rushing into the new with nary a thought for what might happen, but his recent experiences had left him feeling kind of burnt. He’d found himself left with a better understanding of why Malcolm was always so cautious about this stuff.

“We need to convince the Captain not to go through with this ceremony, at least until we have a better understanding of what it entails,” Malcolm replied, voice low, eyes tracking Hoshi and Jon.

Trip nodded his agreement. Yes, they needed parts that might help them repair the heating systems on Shuttle Pod Two, and yes, their sensors indicated that there might be technology in that temple that could help them with those repairs. But that didn’t mean they couldn’t find another source, if they kept looking, and they still had Pod One in the meantime. No need to rush into ceremonies they knew nothing about. He just needed to find a minute alone with the away team, get a chance to talk to the Captain before Jon got them promised to do something they really shouldn’t be doing.

The guide stopped in front of a low, brightly painted wooden building. She waved them through the door ahead of her as the universal translator caught up with her mid-sentence. “…in here as we prepare for the ceremony.” She smiled, her eyes bright. “Who is to be the lucky couple?”

Trip realized he wasn’t going to get that minute when Jon opened his mouth to reply. Jon got as far as saying, “I wi –” when Malcolm stepped forward hastily and cut right across what Jon was saying with his own, “I will.” After the briefest hesitation, too fast to even let Jon get the word in edgewise that he was obviously trying to interject, Malcolm added, “and Commander Tucker.”

Trip’s eyes widened, and he looked first at Malcolm – who was standing, back stiff, hands behind him, nearly at parade rest – then at Jon, whose face was a mix of confusion and consternation.

“Very good,” Fanta said, obviously not picking up on the subtext. “I’ll just go and handle the arrangements, you can make yourself at home inside. There’s food and drink there you’re welcome to,” she added as she moved off.

As soon as she was out of hearing range, Jon grabbed Malcolm’s arm and tugged him inside the building. “What were you thinking?” Jon asked, at the same time as Hoshi said, “Why?”, at the very same time that Malcolm said, “We don’t know what this ceremony entails.”

Trip let their argument buzz around him. He could understand why Malcolm had volunteered himself. As their Tactical Officer, Malcolm was concerned about risks that might come from a ceremony they didn’t understand, as he should be. Jon hadn’t left them time to discuss the situation, and was about to risk himself, the Captain of Earth’s first Warp 5 starship, because he was too much of an eager puppy not to do so. Trip could hear Hoshi arguing for more time, so she could learn about the ceremony, Jon arguing that the ceremony probably was nothing and that as the Captain, he should be the one participating in it, while Malcolm argued back that now that they were committed, he needed to be the one to take the risk.

And Malcolm was right. Jon had moved too hastily, promising they’d participate in this ceremony before they understood it. That excitement about exploring the unknown, combined with his willingness to take risks, had made him the man he was, and a good friend as well. But in this particular case, and so soon after what happened to Trip on the Xyrillian ship, Trip knew that Malcolm and Hoshi were right. They should have better understood what this ceremony was all about before committing to it. Since it was too late for that, it was simply too risky to let the Captain do it. If T’Pol was here, she’d agree – it was only logical.

Trip found himself reassessing Malcolm yet again. When they’d started this mission not that long ago, he’d got the impression that Malcolm was stiff, officious, and someone who avoided risk at all cost – basically, a buzz kill along on a mission that was supposed to be about exploring strange new worlds and meeting strange new people. But the man kept surprising him, as he’d done here. Stopping your commanding officer like that took real guts. Putting yourself forward to take part in a Joining ceremony when you had no idea what a Joining ceremony was took guts. Trip totally understood why Malcolm had felt he’d needed to do what he’d done. What he didn’t understand was…

“Why me?” Trip asked, his question stopping the conversation around him.

Jon, Hoshi and Malcolm all turned to him, but Malcolm was the one who spoke first. “You were the only one who made sense, Commander.”

“So, kind of accidental?” Trip said with a shrug, trying to lighten the mood.

Malcolm’s lip turned up a bit at that, and his eyes softened. “Somewhat,” he explained. “Without knowing more about this ceremony, the Captain’s participation is far too risky.”

As he saw Jon was about to speak, likely to disagree, Trip spoke up. “True.” He shared a look with the Captain, seeing the surprise there, but he didn’t back down. “And who would you ‘join’ with, anyway, Cap’n?” Trip asked. “Hoshi?” He met Hoshi’s eye and gave her a wink in apology. “What if the ceremony really means something, or somehow links you to the person you join with?” Trip added, emphasizing the word ‘links’ so that Jon would catch his meaning, and know he was thinking of his situation with the Xyrillians.

Jon looked thoughtful as Hoshi added, “We don’t know what this ‘Joining’ means, Captain. The translation device is telling me what the word means on its surface, but isn’t giving insight beyond that. We’d need to spend more time, learn a bit more about the culture, in order to understand the nuances.”

True again, thought Trip. What if the ceremony wasn’t just a ceremony, but had some sort of physical or mental effects? Hoshi was in some ways like a daughter to Jon, and very much his junior. The only others on this mission were Malcolm – Malcolm who could barely get through the social aspects of a breakfast with the captain, never mind how the poor guy would react to being forced into a Joining ceremony with him, even if such a ceremony ended up meaning nothing. And Trip, who was Jon’s friend and didn’t want some wacked out ceremony’s after effects to destroy that – and also his subordinate, rank-wise.

Malcolm picking him made sense. He and Malcolm were of similar ranks, and although Trip was ostensibly Malcolm’s superior, he really wasn't acting in that capacity, not really. And so long as the ceremony was just that – a ceremony - neither of them would feel like this thing committed them to each other. They were coworkers, not friends, so even if there were after-effects, they should be able to weather them without damaging their ability to work together. It was obvious that it should be them. “Yeah, okay,” Trip said. “We’re the only ones who make sense to do this thing.” He wandered over to a nearby table, grabbing a deeply purple drink and scanning it. Seeing that it was okay for consumption, he picked up two glasses. Walking one over to Malcolm, he handed it to him, and with the best smile he could muster under the circumstances, raised his glass. “Mazel tov?” 

As Hoshi tried to stifle a smile, Trip noticed Fanta poking her head through the doorway. “If I may have the happy couple, please?” 

Trip plastered his best, most diplomatic smile onto his face and, taking a sniff then a sip from the glass – the stuff really wasn’t bad, tasted a bit like grape soda, bubbles and all – he waved Malcolm ahead of him and through the door.

“Good luck, Commander,” Hoshi whispered as Trip followed behind Malcolm. He turned to face her as he went by, rolling his eyes as he did so.

“Trip,” Jon said, tugging his arm gently, getting Trip to stop. Jon looked at Trip with concern. “Be careful,” he said.

Trip nodded, all seriousness. Then, leading with his glass, he stepped through the door and into the sunlight.


	2. Chapter 2

Trip threaded his arms through the white coat the women were putting on him, wondering if they were doing the same things to prep Malcolm for the ceremony as they were to him. So far, it hadn’t been bad. Fanta had led him and Malcolm into this building, then introduced them to a series of women, none of whose names he could remember, before splitting the two of them up, Malcolm being lead way by one group, and Trip by another. They’d given him food, more of the purple drink, had him bathe (thankfully alone, by all that was holy), then started dressing him in this white outfit. It was interesting that white seemed to be a traditional marriage or ‘joining ceremony’ color here, as it was at home, although for all he knew, these folks could see colors that Humans couldn’t, and he was really wearing seventeen different shades of puce or something. But the outfit itself wasn’t bad; a snug fitting jacket that went just past his hips, a white shirt under it that felt something not entirely unlike silk, pants that fit tight around his hips, falling straight to the floor, and white shoes.

There was a soft buzz of conversation around him as the women got him ready, a couple of them dealing with the outfit, someone else doing something to his hair, a third person putting the white shoes on his feet. He’d tried asking them what was going to go on in the ceremony, but they’d deftly avoided his questions, instead talking about the meaning of each garment he was wearing, the symbolism of the purple drink, and so on. Eventually, they stopped what they were doing, and Trip figured he must be done. He knew he was right when the women around him smiled, cheered, said things he couldn’t catch (he could have sworn one of them actually did say ‘Mazel tov’, but what did he know?), and then grabbed him by both hands and hustled him outside. He blinked against the brightness, then stopped in his tracks. This area of the village was set up as a square, similar to the one in downtown Saint Augustine, with roads leading off a central grassy area. There was some sort of open structure, vaguely reminiscent of a gazebo, in the middle of it. It seemed like half the village must have come out for the ceremony. The place was crowded with people, all of them chatting and smiling. When those nearest to him noticed he was standing there, he heard a sort of a cheer, or maybe more of a chant, begin to rise up, rumbling outward from where he was standing.

The women holding his hands tugged him forward and he started walking again, feeling very exposed as the crowd parted to let them pass. He met the eyes of various people, nodding and smiling as he assumed was appropriate – they nodded and smiled back at him, so he figured he’d guessed right. He let himself be led down the path and under the gazebo. He could see Hoshi and Jon, both still in uniform (lucky them), sitting beside Fanta on the ground. The women stopped him right at the center of the gazebo, and, patting him on the shoulders and back (one woman even gave him a pat on the ass!), they left him standing there.

Okay… he was just about to start wondering where Malcolm was when he heard that chanting start again, saw movement to his left, and turned. Malcolm was being led down another path, toward the gazebo where Trip was standing. He’d also been dressed in white, but best Trip could tell, the outfit suited Malcolm a hell of a lot better than it did him.

As Malcolm reached his side, Trip whispered, “You clean up real nice.” He glanced at the man standing beside him, only to see Malcolm give him the side-eye.

Trip expected Malcolm to give him some sort of snarky comment. Instead, Malcolm instead surprised him with a, “Not so bad yourself” and a small smile.

True, Trip thought again. The Enterprise uniforms did nothing for anyone who wore them. Other than for T’Pol, that is. But then again, hers wasn’t an Enterprise uniform. He wondered if these folks would let him keep the clothing after the ceremony.

A man stepped out of the crowd, also wearing white. He waved at the crowd to sit, and as they settled to the grass, he whispered instructions to Trip and Malcolm, asking them to face each other and join hands. As the man raised his arms in benediction and began intoning something that Trip couldn’t understand, voice carrying above the crowd, Trip turned to Malcolm, shrugged, and grabbed the other man’s hands, praying that his own weren’t too sweaty. As the pastor (or priest or whatever) spoke, the pastor reached down to a tray behind held by one of the women, took a white ribbon from the tray, and began to wrap it around their hands, joining Trip’s left hand to Malcolm’s right.

Trip stared down at Malcolm’s hands, being certain not to grasp them too tightly. He really hadn’t known Malcolm all that long. He’d really never spent any time looking at Malcolm’s hands before. Malcolm’s were a lot smaller than his, the skin paler. He let his eyes move up until he met Malcolm’s own, and he smiled gently. They were in an odd situation, admittedly, but they’d make the best… Woah. The priest guy blew some sort of fine powder over them both, and Trip felt a wave of dizziness, nearly overwhelmed by it and the sudden scent of something spicy and sharp. He shook his head, trying to clear it, but that only made it worse.

He felt someone tugging at his hands, and looked to see Malcolm there, smiling in a way that made Trip’s stomach flip. He couldn’t help but smile back, the dizziness gone, a sense of warmth and happiness taking its place. God, Malcolm’s eyes were blue – well, more of a grey blue, or a steel blue. Why hadn’t he noticed that before? And shit, but as his mamma might say, the man was a tall drink of iced tea. Well, maybe not so tall, but sweet - sweet tea for sure. Trip laughed at that, and felt his smile widen, wondering if he looked as flummoxed as he felt, but Malcolm was still staring into his eyes as if in wonder, and Trip decided that he really didn’t care what others might think.

Eyes only for the man in front of him, Trip heard the priest (or whatever) whisper, “Now’s when you kiss,” and with a sigh, Trip gently tugged Malcolm’s hands and, letting himself fall slightly forward, kiss him he did.


	3. Chapter 3

Trip stood, left hand still wrapped in ribbon and joined to Malcolm’s right, holding the other man’s hand firmly as he raised the drink someone had handed him with the other, taking a sip. He’d lost Jon and Hoshi in the crowd of well wishers, each villager seeming to want to come up and congratulate the happy couple after the ceremony. He kept glancing over to Malcolm, only to see Malcolm nodding and smiling at various locals in the almost-but-not-quite reception line. Although Malcolm wasn’t looking at Trip, Trip could feel the warmth of Malcolm’s hand in his own, sure and strong.

Trip felt a firm hand meet his shoulder, and turned to see Jon there, with Hoshi beside him. “You guys okay?” Jon asked, all seriousness.

“Could have been worse,” Trip replied. He felt Malcolm squeeze his hand, and he looked over at Malcolm, who smiled and looked away, continuing his pleasantries with yet another of the local citizens.

“What was that stuff?” Hoshi asked, miming blowing something off her palm.

“No idea,” Trip said. “Smelled good, though,” he said with a laugh. “I’m sure it was symbolic of… something or other.” Seeing Hoshi’s interest, he continued. “They kept telling us how the jacket was symbolic of this, the color symbolic of that, I have no idea.”

“Maybe you could talk to Fanta,” Jon said to Hoshi, nodding toward their guide chatting with folks several meters away.

Trip was mulling over how Jon had just abbreviated Fanta’s name the same way he’d been thinking, when he noticed Jon looking at their joined hands. “We’re supposed to stay joined until we go through the temple. The ribbon symbolizes that joining and… something, something, something.” Trip laughed again. “Could have been a lot worse. Anyway, they told us we have some time before the big party. Was thinking we’d go into the temple now and take some readings while we can.”

Hoshi nodded and indicted the crowd with a hand. “Good idea. Apparently, after this little ‘meet and great’, the joined are actually expected to enter the temple and spend some time there. That’s what Fanta told us, anyway.”

“Did she mention what we’re actually supposed to be doing in there?” Malcolm asked, finally catching a break from the well wishes and greetings.

Hoshi shook her head. “I’m sure it’s symbolic of something,” she said, as she met Trip’s eye.

Jon added, “Be a good use of the time.” Jon handed Trip a scanner from the bag he had slung over a shoulder, then another to Malcolm. Since the stupid outfit Trip was wearing didn’t come with pockets, he stuck the scanner in the waistband of his pants under his jacket, and noticed Malcolm doing the same.

Once they were both ready, Trip tugged at Malcolm’s hand. “Come on, husband,” he said, his voice gently chiding, and just loud enough to be heard over the voices of the people nearby.

A collective “Ooooh!” rose from the folks near them, and Trip pulled Malcolm alongside him and through the door of the temple.

x-x

Trip tapped his scanner with a finger. While scanning the interior of the temple wasn’t a problem with only one available hand, actually doing the analysis of the data he’d got had been a bit more complicated. But now he was done. And the results were zip. Nothing. Bupkis. He’d got all the readings he needed, but unfortunately, the technology here was too integrated into the function of the building for him, in good conscience, to ask for it. And it probably wouldn’t help with the shuttle, anyway.

He felt Malcolm’s finger gently running along his palm, then playing with the ribbon that linked their hands. It was distracting, but Trip was done with his analysis, and it was a good kind of distracting. He was finding a lot of things about Malcolm to be a good kind of distracting.

“I think I’m done here,” Trip said with a sigh. He checked the time on the scanner. “Still have some time before we have to get back.”

“Mmm,” Malcolm murmured in reply. 

Trip turned to face Malcolm, lowering the scanner to his side. Malcolm was using his own scanner to record symbols on the nearest wall, and Trip took the moment to observe the man as he worked. Honestly, he was surprised that he’d never really looked at Malcolm before. He’d noticed him, yeah, but it was like today was the first time he was *noticing* noticing him. The contrast between his dark hair and his fair skin. The way the blue of his eyes changed, depending on the light. The focused intensity of the man when he worked. Trip wasn’t exactly sure why he hadn’t noticed these things before. He was certainly noticing them now.

Malcolm winced, squinting a moment as he stared at the designs.

Trip asked, “You okay?”

Malcolm nodded, eyes moving from the scanner in his free hand to the scrawled text climbing the wall in front of them. “Headache.”

As Malcolm kept on with his scans, Trip moved to stand directly in front of him, blocking his view of the wall. “Anything I can do?”

“For what?”

“Headache, remember?” Trip said with a smile.

“Oh, yes.” Malcolm met his eye. “I suppose I’m still a bit…” He hesitated, and returned Trip’s smile.

“What, Malcolm?”

“Overwhelmed.”

“Me, too.” Trip took Malcolm’s scanner and, with his own, placed it on the nearest surface, eyes only for the man in front of him.

“Unexpected,” Malcolm added, taking Trip’s free hand in his own, their other hands still wrapped in the ribbon joining them. Malcolm looked down at their hands, then up again to Trip. Malcolm’s cheeks were flushed, his eyes bright, and the man looked just about as happy as Trip had ever seen him.

Trip tugged on Malcolm’s hand, moving him a bit closer. “You look…”

And that’s all Trip got out, as with that, Malcolm kissed him. Ribboned hands still linked in front of them, Trip used his other hand to trace up Malcolm’s back. Unexpected was right. Unexpected and very, very good.

They broke apart after a moment. Trip said, “We probably shouldn’t be doing this here,” looking around the temple.

With a slight smile, Malcolm said, “This is exactly what we should be doing here.” And at that Malcolm tugged him closer and whispered, “While you were looking for tech, I was reading these inscriptions.” Malcolm raised a hand to take in the wall rising above them. “They talk about this building in relation to the joining ceremony. How the first time you enter, after the ceremony…” Here, he dropped his voice. “What people do here, after the ceremony.”

Trip raised a brow. “Seriously? People come in here to…”

Malcolm nodded.

"Think they’d know if we don’t?”

Malcolm shrugged. “They very well might. I got an idea of their technology in the scans.”

This time, Trip raised both brows.

“It’s not that they’re watching, exactly. It’s more that they… They probably can tell if… things… don’t happen.”

Trip scratched his chin, considering. If the locals were going to know, they were going to know. Might as well give them something to know about. Then he smiled. At Malcolm’s matching smile, he pushed against Malcolm’s chest, and they were up against the wall with the inscriptions, hands sliding under clothing. Trip slipped Malcolm’s jacket to the floor, bringing his lips to Malcolm’s shoulder, to his neck, to his mouth, while Malcolm wrestled with Trip’s pants, their joined hands between them. Trip caught Malcolm’s free hand in his own, raising it to his lips, the ribbon from his other hand falling to the floor as he brought the fingers of Malcolm’s other hand to his mouth, licking them, then pushing Malcolm’s hand down, down. “Where the hell have you been all my life?” Trip asked between breaths, his own hands moving to touch, to explore.

“I don’t know I don’t know I don’t know,” Malcolm gasped. Eyes wide, pupils completely blown, Malcolm surged forward…

And this is where we’ll leave the accidental newlyweds a bit of privacy.

x-x

Trip had such a great time on that mission that of course, as they were going through decon, Phlox noticed something on their scans.

Trip could see Phlox’s face in the decon chamber’s window as his voice came over the speaker. “Ensign, Captain, you’re free to go.” The doctor met Trip’s eye. “Commander, and Lieutenant?” At that Malcolm raised his head from where he’d been sitting, relaxed, on the bench. “Another few minutes for you, please.” At Malcolm’s answering shrug, Trip waved Hoshi and Jon out of the chamber, and settled onto the bench beside Malcolm. Phlox closed the viewport. If they were going to be stuck in here for a bit longer, might as well get comfortable. Malcolm obviously felt the same, because he leaned back, settling himself against Trip. Trip turned his body so that Malcolm could fit better, and he closed his eyes, letting his fingers play across Malcolm’s skin. The blue lights, the whole decon process was one that Malcolm always seemed to enjoy. He didn’t even seem to mind that they had to strip down to their skivvies for it. Trip paused his fingers. Maybe that was part of what Malcolm liked. Trip wondered what else Malcolm liked.

He heard the doctor’s voice over the speaker as Phlox asked, “Have either of you noticed any unusual behavior?”

“No,” Trip said, sitting up a bit straighter, surprised. He felt Malcolm’s body tense, and then Malcolm pushed himself fully upright.

“What’s wrong?” Malcolm asked. 

“Perhaps nothing,” Phlox replied. “I’m showing a chemical imbalance in you both. What exactly did this ceremony entail?”

As Malcolm explained the details of the preparation, then then ceremony itself, Trip ran back through those memories. He could remember everything vividly. How right it all felt. How natural. How happy he was, and Malcolm appeared to be, back there after the ceremony. He felt great, even now. There was no way he could possibly be under the influence of something. He felt totally normal. Better than normal.

And then Phlox figured it out, and everything went back to normal. Sometimes, even now, Trip found himself a bit disappointed about that.


	4. Chapter 4

Their second marriage wasn’t quite as pleasant.

First, it was unbelievably awkward. After getting out of decon, Malcolm had refused to talk about what had happened. Trip had tried several times to get him to talk, but zip, zap, nada – Malcolm flat out refused. Eventually, Trip stopped prodding, and they slid back into that formal working relationship, which sure, used to be fine, but now, Trip found himself hating.

Second, the weapons pointed at his head kind of took all the fun out of it.

The ground rough under his knees, Trip kept his hands behind his head, fingers locked, tension radiating throughout his frame. He winced as the guy standing behind him pushed his weapon directly into his neck, but he tried not to move. There had to be ten guys with weapons here, covering an away party of only five. That four of the aliens had their weapons pointed directly at Trip’s head was doing nothing for his anxiety level.

He could just see Jon off to his left, struggling against an alien who had Jon’s arms pinned. And there was Hoshi, eyes rapidly moving from Jon to the aliens to Trip and back, looking frantic. Malcolm and T’Pol were somewhere not far behind him – he could hear T’Pol trying to use logic and reason with these folks, bless her heart, because he had no idea what he’d done that had triggered all this. They’d been walking through the forest when Trip had noticed this clearing, which in other circumstances, would have been beautiful. Surrounded by trees, the small clearing was crowded with aliens, feet scuffing the not-quite-pine-needles that littered the ground around him.

Maybe Malcolm could “action man” his way over here and get him out of this?

"He was not given permission to enter the xyzzy,” Trip heard, one of the aliens speaking loudly from somewhere behind him. “Only those who are life bonded can enter the xyzzy."

Christ, again? Trip nearly rolled his eyes, but figured that might be a bad idea. No need to piss these folks off more than he’d already done. He had absolutely no idea what a xyzzy even was, or that he’d, apparently, entered one. For all he knew, this clearing was their sacred xyzzy. In fact, it probably was. Fabulous.

He noticed Malcolm coming into view, moving slowly, weapon in hand but not raised. Trip could still hear T’Pol trying to reason with the aliens, and the more she spoke, the less Jon struggled – so at least there was that.

Trip knew Malcolm well enough to see that he was assessing the situation. But Trip knew that the number of armed people, and the close range of their weapons, would leave Malcolm without options. Or so Trip thought. What Malcolm did next surprised him. He watched as Malcolm holstered his weapon. "We are life bonded," Malcolm said firmly. He stepped over to Trip and, despite the cluster of armed aliens around them, put a gentle hand on Trip’s shoulder. "We are married,” he added.

Trip noticed that one alien, perhaps their leader, seemed to be considering what Malcolm was saying. His weapon waivered, then lowered. "Not sure that we can recognize –,” he said gruffly.

Trip looked up and his eyes meet Malcolm's, and Trip said, "What would we need to do here to show you we're bonded?"

The man leaned toward the person beside him and had a hushed conversation, then nodded.

So that's how they went through their second marriage ceremony. At least it was a simple affair here, short and to the point, words said over their heads by the leader, then done. The away team left as quickly as possible. 

Again, Malcolm wouldn’t talk about it.

x-x

The third time they got married still wasn’t as much fun as the first time, but at least there were no guns. That said, at least in their second marriage, no one had gotten hurt. Or not physically, at least.

And it had started out so well. It was a beautiful planet, Trip thought as the team was lead through a garden that even Trip had been impressed with, and he wasn’t just saying that out of politeness. The ornamental trees they were walking through were unlike anything he’d ever seen, purple blooms on arching branches creating a ceiling over the path they were following. He could just see the building they’d come out of which, like the trees around them, was all arched forms and graceful curves.

As usual, the local leaders were showing them around. Jon had split the away team into two so they could cover more ground in the short time they had here, and so far, Jon’s plan was working well. Trip and Hoshi were here strolling the garden and chatting up one of the local leaders, and all was right with the world. The weather was warm, the aliens were friendly, and the universal translator was working. Luis Haddad, Malcolm’s third in charge, was there with them, more for form’s sake than anything else. Kelsa Zharin, the local leader, was explaining the garden, the building, the history, the symbolism of the things they were walking past. Trip could tell that Hoshi was really in her element, and even Luis seemed to be having a good time.

Malcolm was inside the reception hall with Jon and T’Pol. Trip didn’t need to be there – he could picture the scene: Jon was there, chatting up a storm, all and sundry under his spell. Man had a serious gift for schmoozing. T’Pol – actually, Trip wasn’t sure how T’Pol and receptions might get along, but he wasn’t interested enough in that to go back inside to check. And Malcolm? Trip knew that Malcolm hated the things. So Jon was probably chatting, T’Pol was probably holding stilted conversations while she didn’t eat the local cuisine, and Malcolm was probably leaning against a wall with a wary eye on all and sundry. Still, even if it was awkward in there, the team was only on this planet for a couple more hours – Enterprise was off doing a survey of a local gas giant, but she was due back later tonight.

“Trip?” Jon’s voice through the communicator broke through Trip’s thoughts. “Get back in here,” Jon said, voice sharp.

Trip saw Luis go tense, and as Luis waved the team forward, Trip stepped double time, following the security officer back toward the building.

“Captain?” Trip asked as he moved. “We’re on our way. What’s up?”

“We’ve had an incident,” said T’Pol, and that’s all it took. They were off and running. 

By the time the team got to the building, Trip could see the local version of emergency vehicles there, some of them already leaving. Following Luis, he went in through the closest door.

“What the hell happened?” Trip asked, stuttering to a stop just inside the doorway. He was inside the reception hall itself, a large room with tall ceilings, white on white on white. He could see a sort of Juliet balcony overhead, one very tall storey up, railing torn away from the wall, the flowers below crushed. There were what he assumed were emergency workers near that area, talking to the locals, and he looked frantically for the rest of his team.

He noticed T’Pol approaching. “What the hell happened?” Trip asked. Only then did he realize whose voice he hadn’t heard, who wasn’t there. “Where’s Malcolm?” he asked, unable to control the tremor in his voice. He clenched his hand so tightly he could feel his nails digging into the skin of his palm.

“The Lieutenant was hurt,” T’Pol answered, and looking into her eyes, Trip found himself suddenly, absurdly grateful for her calmness. Still, he could feel this one in his stomach, and he exhaled slowly through his teeth, carefully controlling his breathing against the rising panic.

“We were upstairs,” she continued. “The balcony gave way, and he fell. The Captain is with him. He’s being brought to the local medical facility.”

Trip felt a hand wrap his own. Hoshi. She asked, “Is he okay?”

“He was knocked unconscious in the fall,” T’Pol answered.

Enterprise wasn’t due back for at least two more hours. Trip felt a flutter of fear in his gut, and found he couldn’t talk.

T’Pol turned her gaze to him, frankly appraising. After a moment, she nodded, as if in understanding. “I have arranged for transport.”

x-x

Trip sat slumped in a chair beside Hoshi, playing with a few frayed threads on the armrest, jiggling a foot to burn some nervous energy. Odd how, even on alien worlds, there was something about the look, the smell, the feel of a hospital that was the same as those back home. He sighed, which caught T’Pol’s notice for a moment. She sat, straight backed and graceful, in a chair opposite. He supposed she was centered, or whatever, enough that the waiting wasn’t getting to her like it was to him. Luis as well – the man was standing by the door of the small waiting area, calm as a cucumber, ever alert. And Hoshi – he glanced over at her. She seemed anxious, but she looked like she was handling this better than he was.

Jon suddenly entered, and Trip sprang to standing. “How is he?”

Jon rubbed a weary hand across his face. “He was unconscious the ride over. I’m not sure…” He exhaled loudly, then met Trip’s eye. “They won’t tell me, and they won’t let me in to see him. Only family.”

“Did you explain?” Trip asked.

Jon nodded. Of course he’d explained the whole Starfleet, away team, first contact, no family here thing. Trip knew he had. Still, Trip had to ask.

Trip slumped back down to a seat, waving Jon to the only remaining chair. And they waited. Trip picked at the armrest, and had started on his cuticles when he felt Hoshi place a hand over his own. He nodded to her, grateful. He was anxious as hell, and it was showing.

Trip had just started bouncing his foot again when someone he assumed was a doctor came in, and he jumped back up again.

Before he could say anything, the Doctor said, “We’ve stabilized him, but I don’t want to do more due to potential differences in our physiologies.” The doctor turned to Jon. “When will your ship be back?”

“Less than two hours,” Jon said.

The doctor nodded. “He’ll be all right until then.”

“What’s wrong with him?” Hoshi asked. Trip realized she was standing beside him, and he felt her hand on his arm.

“I’m afraid that we can only release that information to family or to other medical professionals.” The doctor turned to Jon. “Our rules about this are very strict. You’ll have to wait until your ship comes back and he’s under your care. Until then, I’m sorry.”

As the doctor went to leave, Trip stepped forward. “Can I see him?”

The doctor tilted his head, a somewhat universal sign of confusion. “Only family,” he repeated.

“I’m his husband,” Trip said firmly. He didn’t even look at the others to see what they thought of that. He’d dare any of them to argue, anyway. Legally now, on at least two planets, they’d been married, damn it. That had to be useful for something.

x-x

Trip dragged a chair to Malcolm’s bedside, settling on its edge, eyes locked on the man on the bed in front of him. The doctor had explained the situation, but still, Trip hadn’t been ready for what he was seeing. Malcolm looked like complete and utter shit. Bruises all up the left side of his face, arm encased in some sort of device, pale as hell, attached six ways from Sunday to unfamiliar monitors and devices. He hoped Enterprise came back soon. He hoped Phlox was – no, he knew Phlox could help. It was just a matter of waiting until Enterprise could get there.

Trip watched the rise and fall of Malcolm’s chest, then reached a trembling hand and ran his fingers through the front of Malcolm's hair, super gentle, careful not to go near the bandages. He trailed his fingers down Malcolm's good arm, then he wrapped his hand around Malcolm’s own. He stared at Malcolm’s face. Too still. He didn’t like seeing Malcolm this still. The man was normally a tightly coiled bundle of energy, an explosion waiting to happen. Not this. 

Even once Enterprise arrived, and Malcolm was moved to sickbay, Trip stayed. Time passed, Phlox bustled about, and Trip was there long after Jon and Hoshi and Luis had left.

And when Malcolm finally woke up, Trip still didn’t drop his hand. He stayed.

x-x

It took a bit of time, but Malcolm eventually recovered and was released from sickbay. Trip would see him in the corridors, in briefings, and he figured he was supposed to go back to how things were before all this happened. But he couldn’t. It just wasn’t possible. He’d married Malcolm three times, and things were not the same; yet he still wasn’t quite sure where he stood with the man.

Trip knew, now, what he wanted. But did Malcolm want the same thing? Trip had no damn idea, because Malcolm wouldn’t “bloody well” talk to him about it. But Malcolm hadn’t minded Trip’s being with him in sickbay. He hadn’t minded Trip holding his hand every damn day. Sometimes, actions spoke louder than words.

Maybe it was time for Trip to be ‘action man’. 


	5. Chapter 5

Now, this city is cool, Trip thought as another toast rose up around him. He sipped the drink he’d been handed, laughing as Travis tried to cop a sip from Trip’s drink as the glass was on its way back down to the table. They were at the local version of a pub or a bar, a series of long, communal tables set up in a walled courtyard, under the open sky. The lights strung across the plaza, plus the crowds, gave the whole place a very “New Orleans at one am” feel.

As a server brushed behind him, squeezing past with another tray of drinks, Travis snagged two – one of which he kept for himself, the other he handed to Hoshi with a smile and an exaggerated bow. Malcolm was still nursing the drink in front of him. Trip knew that, even in a city like this, on a night like this, Malcolm would still feel he was responsible for the team. And that was okay. It was nice to be able to rely on someone like that, so that he himself could stand down a bit, have a bit of fun, let his team have some fun. Jon and T’Pol could continue their overtures to the local government, they’d meet up tomorrow. Tonight, the air was warm and fragrant. The stars were sparkling above, bright enough to shine through the overhead lights. The crowd was friendly…

Another roar went up from nearby, and Hoshi and Travis burst out laughing. Even Malcolm smothered a smile. Apparently, according to Hoshi, a custom, here, was to publicly declare love for another and kiss. It was an odd tradition, but from Trip’s observations, it seemed innocent enough. It was sort of the local version of toasting someone’s health or saying “Cheers” or similar. Most people seemed to be doing it just for a bit of fun, while others seemed quite serious, but overall, the atmosphere was really upbeat. It was a nice change.

Travis turned to the woman beside him and raised his glass, declared his love, and shot back his drink, forgetting about the kiss. Seeming to realize what he’d done, he grabbed another drink from a passing waiter (thank goodness the drinks here were, at least to humans, only mildly intoxicating, or they’d all be in trouble) and turned to the woman behind him, raised it, declared his love, drank, pecked her on the lips, then burst out laughing. Trip could tell that the women knew that he was just having a bit of fun, because they’d either raise their own toast or roll their eyes at him, or both.

Travis then turned to Trip and raised his glass, but Trip pushed him gently, laughing it off. Then Travis tried Hoshi, but she told him where he could go with that thought. Then, probably before he’d even thought about it, Travis reached across the table toward Malcolm.

Trip watched a storm cross Malcolm’s face, gone as quickly as it had come. Then Malcolm plastered a small smile on his lips, excused himself, and left the table.

Trip exchanged a look with Travis and Hoshi, then followed.

He found Malcolm outside the pub, leaning against the wall. The street in front of them, albeit crowded, was dark, and significantly quieter than the party inside. Trip leaned back against the wall, nearly shoulder to shoulder with his friend. “You okay?” he asked.

Instead of his usual, ‘Fine’, Malcolm simply shrugged, eyes on the vehicles and people passing.

Trip hissed in a quiet breath. Obviously, something was bothering Malcolm, and what Travis had done had –

“When I get married, I want it to be forever,” Malcolm said, interrupting Trip’s thought.

Trip’s eyes widened. That seemed a bit out of nowhere, but Malcolm was the type of guy who carried stuff around with him, who bottled it up, so he wasn’t surprised that this was just coming out now.

Trip nodded. “Yeah,” he said. He slid slightly to the side, letting his arm touch Malcolm’s. “Ever since that first ceremony, every time we’ve gotten stuck in a similar situation, which –” and here, Trip chuckled softly, “… has been a bit more often than I’d expected when I’d signed up for Starfleet, it’s been like it’s expected that we’ll ‘take one for the team’, as it were.” He glanced at Malcolm. Malcolm was still staring out into the street, eyes unfocused. Trip let his hand reach out and he threaded his fingers through Malcolm’s. “And I suppose that’s not fair.”

Malcolm looked at him in surprise.

“Although to be honest, I don’t mind.” Trip gave a soft smile. “If it had to be someone, it might as well be me. And if…” he exhaled loudly. “…if I had to ‘marry’ someone, to be honest again, I’m glad it was you.”

Trip couldn’t interpret the look on Malcolm’s face, so he figured in for a penny, in for a pound. “Listen,” he said. “Without that first wedding, I’d never have…” He hesitated, unsure of how to go on. He tried again. “Malcolm, I…” Trip wiped his free hand across his face with a wince. Then he turned and looked fully at Malcolm. “I’m kind of at a loss for words, here.”

“You?” Malcolm asked with a wry smile.

Trip, heart suddenly in his throat, decided what the fuck, he’d risk it all. So he said, “Do you remember that first ceremony? The ribbon?”

Malcolm nodded.

Trip leaned in close, and whispered, “I kept the ribbon.”

“You did?” Malcolm blinked his surprise. “Why?” he asked. That didn’t sound accusatory. It sounded a bit lost.

“I just… I did,” Trip said. “It was important.” He exhaled audibly. “You’re important.” Trip took both of Malcolm’s hands, holding them between his own. “I miss you,” Trip said, and he meant it. He missed that connection they’d had after the first ceremony. How open Malcolm had been with him. How he himself had felt, being around Malcolm. “I want...” his voice trailed off. He wanted to give this, whatever this was, a chance. Maybe more than he’d ever wanted anything in his life, he wanted this.

“You’re serious,” Malcolm said, voice quiet, and it wasn’t a question.

Trip found himself unable to interpret the look in Malcolm’s eyes. He found himself giving in to his own feelings. “For once,” Trip chuckled. Then he quieted, and continued, “I’m quite serious. If we hadn’t been forced to get married, I might never have realized how…” He smiled gently. “How I feel about you.” Those marriage ceremonies had led them here. They might not have exactly been voluntary at the time, but now... “This time, there’s no one forcing me. I just really, really, really –”

“Really?” Malcolm whispered.

“Really,” Trip said firmly. Then slowly, tentatively, Trip tugged on Malcolm’s hands, bringing him closer; and he kissed him.

Malcolm’s eyes fluttered closed, hands clasping Trip’s own, and he kissed him back. Then, wasting no time at all (being a man of action and all), Malcolm reached between them, grabbed Trip’s hardness, and Trip groaned. “God, Malcolm,” Trip said. The man was obviously interested in making up for lost time. “Where the hell have you been all my life?” Trip asked, deliberately repeating what he’d said in their first wedding. He heard Malcolm’s answering chuckle. And then, about the least cautious as he’d ever been in his life, Trip found himself saying, softly, “Marry me.” Malcolm didn’t stop what he was doing, just nodded. Trip smiled into Malcolm’s neck. Then he licked a hot streak across the man’s skin, not caring that they were standing on the street. Not caring that he had crewmates inside the pub who, if they stepped outside, would see this. Only caring about the man in his arms, and the moment he was in.

Trip hadn’t come down here expecting to ask Malcolm what he’d just asked. He now realized that perhaps that was because in many ways, they were already married. Had been, three times. Maybe they’d have a ceremony back at home. Or maybe not. They’d been through ceremonies enough, and it wasn’t a ceremony that made them fit; it was them. It was this man. It was everything.

Trip thanked God that they’d been forced to go through that first ceremony. He declared now, before God and all that was holy, that he loved this man with all his heart. He didn’t need a ceremony to tell him that – although he’d needed one to realize it. And maybe a home ceremony would be a good idea, if only to please his mama. Maybe Malcolm would be willing to wear that outfit from their first ceremony? He’d been hot as hell in that thing. Remembering it, Trip trailed a series of hot kisses along Malcolm’s neck, hands firm in Malcolm’s hair. What time were they due back on the ship maybe they could get a room down here or something because seriously he could think of things he wanted to do to this man now not later and those things needed privacy and a bed a really really big very large bed oh god…

And this is, again, where we’ll give the newlyweds a bit of privacy.

x-x

End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Please leave kudos if you enjoyed.


End file.
